the edge of the world
by Rosalyn Angel
Summary: [drabble, oneshot] Excuse me, but you're in my way. [AxelRiku]


**Author's Notes: **Haven't posted anything up here for a while, so… here ya go.

I blame the song I've been listening to.

**"the edge of the world"**

by: Rosalyn Angel

-

He goes out late at night, and he walks. Beyond the skyscrapers towering up to the grey sky, beyond the silence and the cracked streets, and beyond the suburbs at the city's end, he walks.

He walks with his arms folded, hands tucked in, and his jacket wrapped tight. He walks with his eyes trained on the ground, watching his feet go forward one step at a time. He walks with conviction on his mind—a steadfast decision—and he doesn't stop until he reaches the edge of the world.

Here the sky is clearer and his breathing is easier. Here the dark alleys of the city and the dull houses of the suburbs can't get him. It's untainted and beautiful and isolated, the breeze cool on his face, the ground rocky, and the cliff tall. It's here, he thinks, that he can die.

He walks forward, to the edge—a pointed little section that hangs the farthest over the ocean. Then he looks up and sees another man sitting there, hunched over and hair a bright red.

"Excuse me," he says quietly, "but you're in my way."

The man raises his head and glances over his shoulder. His face is grim yet straight, no smile or frown, and his eyes are the same. "I got here first," he says calmly.

"I won't take long," the first replies. "You can come back after I'm done. But I need that spot."

The redhead's legs are dangling over the side. They hang limply. "What for?"

He meets the man's eyes. "That's where I'm going to die."

Then there's something strange: a flicker of recognition, a slight incline of the head. "You don't say."

"Yes," he says, "so please leave."

The redhead shrugs. "I got here first. You can wait."

A breeze touches his skin. He shivers and rubs his arms. "Fine."

So he sits down where he stands. The ground is cold, hard, and uncomfortable, but the water lapping below sounds nice. The second man turns back around and stares at the horizon. The first man stares at the other, waiting for movement, for any clue to his leaving.

Finally, the redhead stands and dusts off his jeans. "All yours."

For a moment, he's taken back. "You're really just going to leave?"

"Yeah."

"You're not going to try to stop me?"

The second man raises an eyebrow. "Only if you want me to. Do you?"

The first narrows his eyes. "What type of question is that?"

"A simple one," the redhead says, crossing his arms. "I could take you for something to eat, if you want. There's a nice restaurant down the road that's open all night."

"You don't even know me," he says, looking away.

"But I could," the stranger replies.

"You must be insane."

"You must be, too."

The first man's aqua eyes dart back and connect. "Why are you doing this?"

The redhead sighs loudly. "Look," he says, "I could say all the cliché things about life and living it and how good it is, but you know it never really works. It's all shit."

The first man flinches, but it's almost unnoticeable.

"Yeah," the redhead continues, "yeah, things can get really bad. And it's probably really easy to just fall and pretend you're flying. One last moment of glory, right?"

The breeze feels nice. The water sounds nice. The edge of the world is inviting. The first man looks to the horizon.

"You know," he hears the whisper, "I think everyone thinks about it. Flying, I mean. But I've figured there's a trick."

He glances back curiously.

The redhead finishes with a roll of his shoulders: "You just can't act on it." He smiles then, and reaches out a hand. "It's your choice. Come with me, or jump."

So he stares at the stranger once more, his silhouette standing over him against the sky, casual and offering. Questions and possibilities pour through his mind. His feet feel sore, and his mind is weary. Yet he still relents:

"… Okay." A short pause. "But I'm coming back here afterward."

He's pulled to his feet while the other replies: "We'll see."

Aqua eyes narrow again. "I am."

The stranger smiles. "So was I," he says softly, "until you came."

**-fin**

_we all flirt with the tiniest notion_

_of self-conclusion in one simplified motion_

_you see the trick is that you're never supposed to act on it_

_no matter how unbearable this misery gets_

"self-conclusion," by the spill canvas


End file.
